


road head w/ sub bri

by laedymoonarchive



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:27:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26264176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laedymoonarchive/pseuds/laedymoonarchive
Summary: --- this is a repost of a fic originally published on my tumblr. i no longer use it and am slowly getting rid of my posts, so everything i've written is being archived here ---premise: brian’s height often makes long car trips a pain, so you help him distract himself from the discomfortwarnings: it’s… it’s what the title says: oral sex (m receiving), subtle sub!bri, swearing, (18+)wordcount: 1.2k
Relationships: Brian May & Reader, Brian May/You
Kudos: 10





	road head w/ sub bri

**Author's Note:**

> \--- this is a repost of a fic originally published on my tumblr. i no longer use it and am slowly getting rid of my posts, so everything i've written is being archived here ---
> 
> premise: brian’s height often makes long car trips a pain, so you help him distract himself from the discomfort
> 
> warnings: it’s… it’s what the title says: oral sex (m receiving), subtle sub!bri, swearing, (18+)
> 
> wordcount: 1.2k

visiting your boyfriend’s parents comes with it’s pros and cons. to the former, brian’s mum is a darling and dotes over you like her own daughter, and you love hearing him and his dad’s passionate bickering over anything and everything music related.

the only negative, really, is the long drive -four hours there and four back. the trek is always made worth it when you arrive, but both you and brian always begin to get antsy during the second leg. _especially_ brian.

“fuck.” brian mutters, his hands gripping the steering wheel as he shifts uncomfortably.

“you alright?”

“yeah.” he huffs, and the two of you fall back into comfortable silence. but two seconds later, he’s groaning again.

“christ, what is it?” you turn sharply.

“legs hurt. haven’t got enough room.” brian winces.

“have you put the seat back?”

“all the way.”

“we could stop?”

brian shakes his head. “it’ll just hurt again as soon as we get back in. could you distract me?”

“course.” you drop a hand to his knee and massage it gently, a feeble effort to relieve the pain.

“um… did i tell you bout what freddie did the other day?” your hand drifts further up brian’s leg as he shakes his head, tickling the inside of his thigh.

“dragged me to this charity shop in the passage and made me sit with him for _three fucking hours_ while he tried on spandex bodysuits.” brian shifts under your grip.

“still sore, baby?”

“mm.” he nods. you squeeze his thigh and continue.

“and then, the little shit chats up at clerk and convinced him to take half price if fred took him out for a drink. i was ropable, having to catch the bus home by myself.”

you’re expecting a laugh, possibly. some agreement from brian that _that sure sounds like our freddie_. but what you get is silence.

you look over at your boyfriend, cheeks red through his curtain of mahogany curls and his sharp incisors piercing his pillowy bottom lip.

“poor baby”. you mutter, tightening your grip on his thigh. “must really hurt.”

at least, that’s what you think until your palm drifts unintentionally to his crotch.

“brian.” you let your hand soften slowly and brian exhales shakily. “you’re _hard_.”

“fuck- i _know that._ ” he lets out a strangled sort of laugh, dropping his head onto the steering wheel as you come to a traffic light.

he’s slightly desperate- you can always tell when your boy is pent up: the dilated pupils, the erratically drumming fingers on the steering wheel, the teeth raking across his lip. and it gives you a devilish idea.

“still want me to distract you?” you offer innocently enough and brian nods. you unclick your seatbelt as softly as you can, turning sideways and bringing one hand back to rest at brian’s thigh, fingers stroking the soft velvet.

brian’s eyes spring wide as your other hand pops his button and tugs at his zipper. he releases his grip on the wheel to place his big hand over yours.

“what’re you doing?”

“distracting you?” you say, as though it should be obvious, staring up at brian through your lashes.

“i didn’t mean like this, _christ_ y/n.”

“want me to stop?” your tone is overly sweetened as you palm brian gently.

he glances at the road ahead, empty safe for a couple of truckies at least a half kay ahead. he shakes his head feebly, and you return to freeing his achingly hard cock from its restraints with new found vigor.

“how long have you been this hard, bub?” you coo, shimmying brian’s flares down his narrow hips.

“when you p- _ah, fuck_ -put your hand on my thigh.” brian stutters as you flick his underwear aside, hard cock hitting his tensed stomach.

“so needy.” you swipe a thumb over the leaking tip. “what’s got you all pent up bri?”

“didn’t-shit, didn’t get off all week ‘cos of my paren- _fuck, y/n._ ”

okay, so maybe the pleasure you take in making him stutter with kitten licks to his tip is a _tad_ cruel, but the pretty whimpers he produces when you tease him are just too delicious to resist.

“poor love. should’ve spoken up sooner.” brian exhales shakily as you spit into your palm and _finally_ begin pumping his base. “know i always take care of my pretty boy.”

“ _god_.” brian whimpers. you know how to get him especially wound up, and aside from tugging at his curls, calling him _pretty_ is the most effective tactic.

it’s a little awkward leaning over the console, but you manage to configure yourself so you can wrap your lips around brian’s tip, giving an experimental swirl of your tongue.

the car swerves slightly as brian’s hips buck unwillingly, and he lets out a moan of protest when you release him.

“gotta keep it straight for me baby, yeah?”

“sorry.” brian whimpers.

“keep telling me bri. why’s my pretty boy so needy?” you prompt, ducking your head again, taking half of him in your mouth before he can respond.

“holy shit, i um- _fuck_. didn’t get to fuck you all week-didn’t get… didn’t get off either.” brian stutters as you begin to suck him off faster. you see his grip tighten, knuckles paling around the steering wheel in your peripheral.

“g-god you looked so fucking gorgeous all week… _jesus christ_ -and then you t- _fuck_ -touched me before…

…couldn’t f- _fuck_ ing help it.”

you reassure him with a squeeze to the thigh, and briefly consider reaching up to tug at his curls. but shit, there’s no way he’d be able to concentrate on the road if you did, and you don’t think you’d ever live down the teasing if you got into a car accident because of _this_.

so, instead, you remove your palm from brian’s base and, steadying yourself on his tensed thigh, take all of him, your nose nudging again his pubic bone as he cries out.

“m’going to cum. fuck, _please_ , m’gonna cum.”

brian releases as he always does- with a rut of his hips and breathy, angelic whimpers, stuttering and whining and cursing your name.

you wait for him to finish, swallowing his seed and releasing him with a _pop_ of your mouth.

brian looks completely and utterly fucked out as you sit up- eyes glossy and cheeks red and dark curls pressed to his forehead. his hands are limp on the wheel, pushing no more than twenty and you thank god that the road is so deserted.

“feel better, baby?” you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand.

“holy shit. thank you, love.” brian comes back into himself a little, though his legs are still trembling.

“my pleasure.” you snap the button of his trousers back into place and press a kiss to his warm cheek.

“don’t you dare get me riled up again.” brian groans.

“wouldn’t dream of it.” you say amusedly, because shit, he wasn’t kidding when he said he was pent up.

“still hurting?” you take care to keep your hands _well away_ from brian’s upper legs.

brian lets out a frustrated laugh “can’t even fucking feel ‘em. you’re a miracle worker.” he returns your kiss, one that he keeps fairly chaste in an effort not to initiate a round two.

“good.” you shuffle around to settle back into your seat and tend to your mussed hair in the passenger side mirror.

“are we both ticking that off our bucket lists? never done anything that risky before.”

“yep.” brian grins widely to himself. “can’t wait to tell rog. he’ll be bloody _fuming_.”

………………………..


End file.
